


Sleeping With A Friend

by knightstemplar



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightstemplar/pseuds/knightstemplar
Summary: Ed and Bart are friends with benefits.Ed wishes they were more.





	Sleeping With A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Have you heard that song, _Sleeping With A Friend_, by Neon Trees? Well, so have I, so I wrote pretty much 90% of this a couple months ago then never finished it, but now I did.
> 
> _F U Till I F U_ by Call Me Karizma ft. Cassandra Lee also came to mind while writing this.

As with everything, every change in Ed’s life is due to someone else. He moves to the United States because of his father, becomes a meta-human because of the Reach, joins a bunch of spandex wearing willy-dillies to fight vigilante justice because of the people who needed it, and stays, well, because of the company. It’s like he’s destined to be stuck in this routine forever. Cause and effect but the cause is never his.

The cause of the newest annoyance in his life is named Miguel, the effect is irritation. 

Their teammates don’t notice the obvious flirtations, how Bart keeps insisting for Miguel to spar with him personally, how they both stay longer after training. The way the two look at each other, catching glances, stealing kisses around corners. Is he really supposed to believe that they both discovered a fondness for turtlenecks at the same time by just coincidence?

Bart notices Ed noticing, so he gets pressed, back to wall, after training one day.

“Miguel has a boyfriend, so we’re just having some fun, y’know,” Bart tells him, “It’s an open relationship.” 

“I figured,” Eduardo says and keeps his voice steady, like the champ he is. _ I hoped so _ he doesn’t confess out loud. 

“You want in?” Bart then asks, much to Ed’s surprise, licking his lips while looking right through him, “We could have some fun too, _ amigo_."

Logically, because he doesn’t know if he could deal with these feelings, he should say no. But when Bart is standing there with two fingers tugging at the waistband of his jeans, and they’re close enough that if Eduardo leans forward they’d be locking lips, he caves in.

The curve of Bart’s mouth makes Ed think of things he shouldn’t.

* * *

“We should’ve done this ages ago,” Bart stretches and yawns, his hair is a mess and his pale chest is blue with bruises from last night, “That was good sex.”

“Better than Miguel?” Ed regrets the question instantly, because he doesn’t think he really wants to hear the answer. 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Bart answers, running a finger up Eduardo’s bare chest, and there doesn’t seem to be any ill will in his voice, “However, I know ways you can turn the odds in your favour...”

When they’re done (for now) and they’re sticky and they’re sweaty and Bart presses one last blissfully domestic kiss on Ed’s forehead before bolting out the door, he thinks maybe, it’s okay. He can live with this a little bit longer.

* * *

Ed doesn’t like it when Bart shows up with hickeys that Ed didn’t put on him, so he makes it his sole mission to bite on every bruise until he’s sure that they’re all from him, and him alone. 

There’s no need to be jealous when you have no one to be jealous for. Bart isn’t his to claim, as such. Not his boyfriend, not his lover. They’re just friends fooling around for a bit. What they’re doing together is not tender or soft, even if he wishes it was. He’s sleeping with the guy he’s in love with, but dreams about holding his hand under a starry sky, kissing him under the moonlight.

The others don’t notice anything. Innuendos disguised as jokes, the fact that Ed also all of a sudden got a newfound devotion to turtlenecks, the staring. Bart keeps calm, but Ed feels like his face is burning up every time they touch in public. Why is this so much easier when they’ve got their heads under covers?

Eduardo finds himself thinking that he should really move on and find someone else. That this entire thing with Bart is stupid and foolish and he’s the fool. But the advantages of having a fuck-buddy that can be at your doorstep the second you hit send on your _ come over _ text, is just that. He wants Bart and Bart doesn’t seem to mind having him either. 

When he’s got the house for himself one weekend, Bart arrives Friday evening and doesn’t return home until Monday morning. Eduardo wonders if it’s possible to call in sick for school, simply to catch up on some sleep.

He takes up laundry duty because he doesn’t want his father to see his bedsheets. He feels pathetic, and maybe he is. 

Bart and Miguel part ways. _ Breaking up _ are the wrong words because they were never really together. Ed only finds out by chance, after he jokingly asks how Miguel feels about Bart only spending time with him nowadays, and Ed feels his heart skip a beat when he gets the news. 

“I’m not with him anymore,” Bart explains like it’s no big deal, because to him, it isn’t. 

“Good,” Ed says instead of pouring his heart out right then and there, “Then I can have you all to myself.”

It’s almost gross how possessive he sounds.

It's easy to indulge in the sensation. 

* * *

Ed doesn’t know Bart’s favourite colour, but he knows what Bart looks like naked. He doesn’t know Bart’s favourite subject in school, but he knows the way Bart likes his hair pulled during sex. 

He never really turns Bart down and Bart doesn’t really turn him down, the upsides of having similar schedules, but one time he honestly just can’t make it. 

“Why not?” Bart asks, genuinely surprised. 

“Argentina-Brazil, see if we get to semi-finals.”

“Cool. Can I come?”

“Sure, _ amigo_."

It is fun to be just the two of them doing something normal for once. It’s not like they aren’t still friends. Unfortunately, he doesn’t think Bart was ready for an angry Argentinian watching football, especially if Argentina is losing. 

“Holy shit, Eduardo,” says Bart after he’d expressed his disapproval on Brazil’s third penalty shot, “You kiss your father with that mouth?”

“I kiss you with it, so it can’t be that bad,” Eduardo bumps their shoulders together, grinning. Maybe he’s getting a little too distracted by Bart’s flushed face, but it’s worth it.

“No, it’s great. It’s really great,” Bart laughs, “Thank you for bringing me, it was fu— hey we scored!”

The crowd is roaring. There’s three minutes left, the score is dead set on 3-3. In the last twenty second of the game, when Ed’s sure it’ll be a draw, Brazil pulls through with such a beautiful goal through a corner kick, that he can’t even be too mad. 

Bart spends the night, and for the first time in a while, they’re just peacefully laying next to each other in bed. Too tired and too wired from the game, Bart’s talking about this goal and that goal and that player and this miss and everything else, whispering excitedly and motioning wildly with his hands, and Ed thinks that if he dies right here, he’d be okay with it.

* * *

After they’ve been more than friends but less than lovers for a good couple of months, Eduardo decides to break it off. He doesn’t know why it came to him just then, but between good sex and even more good sex, he just can’t take it anymore. It’s the longing for more. If he can’t have more with Bart, maybe it’s time to try something else, someone else. 

When he tells Bart, he assumes it’ll be light and breezy, that Bart will crack a joke and then they’d have break-up sex and then Eduardo can do his best to move on. Instead, Bart looks so… so _ sad_. The air changes around them, it’s heavy and cold and it’s not supposed to go this way.

“If that’s what you want,” Bart says, arms crossed, not even looking Ed in the eyes. 

“Yeah,” Ed answers, voice cracking, and even though Bart probably notices he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong. All he wants to do is to apologise, even if he has nothing to be sorry for. This is not what he wants, “It’s what I want.”

* * *

It takes three days for Bart to stop wearing turtlenecks, another week and a half for Ed to stuff his last one far away in the closet. He tells himself it’s the warmth of the fabric, that he misses around his neck, not the kisses.

They’re still civil towards one another, they still converse when they’re with others. Aside from that, they’re not really talking. He’s lost the right to sling an arm across Bart’s shoulders after a successful mission, so he has to look at someone else doing it. He’s lost the right to invite Bart over to his place to hang out. He feels like he’s lost all of these things even though he technically hasn’t, because they weren’t dating. They weren’t boyfriends. Eduardo has to wonder, if it’d hurt less or more, if he could’ve called Bart is lover, just once. 

Losing sleep apparently goes hand in hand with losing your mind, so when he cancels plans for the fifth time in a row over the course of two weeks, people start to notice. The saviours come in the form of old friends, who barge in to mend Ed’s broken heart to the best of their abilities.

“Quit your moping,” Tye says, a bit too harshly, “You’re making us sad.”

“Be nice, Tye,” Asami is an angel, “Quit being sad, you’re making us all mope!” Nevermind.

He wants to point out that he isn’t moping because he isn’t sad (which are both lies he tells himself), and how he does not want heartbreak advice from the happiest couple on the block.

“In Japan we have this thing called _ kintsugi_," Asami starts, “Whenever something breaks, we fix it with gold. So you can still see how it broke, but now it’s stronger.”

“So?” he’s not really in the mood for one of Asami’s life lectures, which any conversation could easily become.

“Well, you’re the golden one,” Tye says, “Figure it out!”

* * *

Perhaps he figures it out, or he doesn’t. He tries with someone else, but those kisses don’t taste like Bart’s, so he doesn’t want them. Somehow, he’s managed to get back to square one. Once again is he staring, he’s wanting more.

They’ve barley been apart for a month, before Ed suggests they should get back together. It’s too stupid to work, and Ed’s probably an idiot for even asking, but Bart’s always been full of surprises.

“Okay,” Bart gives him a lopsided grin, playing with the strings on Ed’s hoodie before pulling it over his head, “Let’s have some fun.”

* * *

Bart’s underneath him and his eyes are teary and he’s gasping like the air is too thick to swallow, to no avail he tries to muffle his whimpers with the back of his hand. Eduardo can’t help but note how Bart doesn’t have a single hickey on him, and he’s a little ashamed that he himself does. 

“Why are you crying?” Eduardo asks, even if he could’ve ignored it. They’re not really used to pillow talk.

“I’m not. I’m not crying,” Bart barks, hiding his face in the crevice of Ed’s neck. 

“Bart…”

“Maybe you should just fuck me and stop asking questions, Eduardo,” it’s sly, Bart’s breath is hot, but his voice isn’t steady. 

This is what he wants, but this isn’t the way he wants it. 

“It’s not what I want,” Eduardo whispers, a lump growing in his throat. Why did it have to be this way?

“Then, what is it that you want?” Bart’s eyes are burning and they’re red and he’s crying. 

The heat from Bart’s gaze makes the air leave his lungs. He feels like he’s sinking, or maybe he’s melting, evaporating into the hot air. How do you condense your heart back into your chest, back behind your ribs, where it’ll stay in its cage forever?

“What is it that you want?” Bart sobs, “Because I know what I want.”

“Me too,” Eduardo blinks away the tears he didn’t realised had formed on their own from his eyes, “I also know.”

They don’t blame the rain on the weather.

* * *

They’re chest to chest under the covers and just before he falls asleep, he opens one eye and sees Bart smiling. 

This is what he wants, this is the way he wants it.

There is a sanguine feeling in the air and Eduardo breaths easily.

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, everyone involved (the characters, that is) always have an incredible need to cry in everything I write. Wonder why that is!
> 
> Go check out Asami's life lesson if you want, it's quite heartwarming.


End file.
